Chapter 4 Night Camp

　　The maidservants of the prince's household were quite skilled—even in the haste of mountain travel, the food they prepared was truly delicious.

　　But the Crown Prince's face fell once more at the thought of the meditation session that awaited him after supper—now extended by three full hours on Aunt Hui's orders. Meditation was a required discipline for every Chen boy who had undergone the coming-of-age ceremony. It was a practice of self-cultivation and character-building, requiring one to sit upright on the ground, with palms, soles, and face all turned inward toward a single point.

　　Seated thus, one must not move. The mind must be stilled. Each inhalation and exhalation had to be measured to a fixed length. Over time, the heart would settle, allowing one to reflect on the day's words and actions, to examine oneself with honesty, to calm one's anger, and to guard one's tongue.

　　At first, the duration was a mere quarter of an hour. With each passing year, another quarter was added. Xiaotong was now ten, and his session had already grown to a full hour.

　　For a child of his age—naturally lively and restless—to be forbidden from speaking, forbidden from moving, forced to sit still for an entire hour was already torture enough. In his mind, no punishment in the world could be worse than this.

　　After the meal, Aunt Hui sat motionless. The Crown Prince dared not shirk his duty, so he found a suitable spot, settled himself down, and arranged his posture. No sooner had he settled into position than Aunt Hui's voice came from nearby: "In three days, we shall reach Dingrong City in Wei. Your every word and deed, Crown Prince, is not only the embodiment of Chen's state ceremony, but also the face of King Ying. Three years of meditation, three years of cultivation—and yet you have gained nothing from it. You still flare up at the slightest provocation, your temper impossible to rein in."

　　Seeing that the prince dared not make a sound, Aunt Hui continued: "If you conduct yourself thus when we reach the Wei capital, will they not mock us and hold us in contempt?"

　　Xiaotong thought little of her words, but he dared not argue. He lowered his head and said, "I shall follow Aunt Hui's instruction. I will be cautious in both word and deed."

　　Aunt Hui nodded. "Tonight, I have punished you with three hours of meditation—that will be the last time I do so. I shall not make it a precedent again."

　　The Crown Prince quickly lowered his head in thanks.

　　Aunt Hui added: "Once we enter Dingrong City, you must no longer act willfully. Your person is of great consequence to the Chen Kingdom. Every word and every deed of yours represents our Chen to the world. Remember this well."

　　With that, Luo Huangyi spoke no more.

　　Xiaotong nodded in agreement, but deep down he was far from convinced. This journey—which had begun with such excitement—had now turned into an ordeal, and the road ahead seemed fraught with unforeseen perils. Though his mind wandered, his body remained still, and gradually he settled into quietude.

　　Luo Huangyi fixed her gaze on him for a long moment, then let out a soft sigh and rose to walk away. The bestowed companion, Little Shan, rose as well and followed. Unlike the Crown Prince, she was not particularly afraid of her master. She trailed behind Aunt Hui, putting a good distance between herself and the meditating prince.

　　Little Shan called out softly, "Master."

　　Luo Huangyi hummed in acknowledgment without turning back. "How many days has it been since you reached the third layer of the Huan Yan Jue?"

　　"Half a month now."

　　"Any questions?"

　　"Yes," the girl replied. She then assumed a stance—left foot extended forward, arms clasped behind her back at waist level, ten fingers pressed together. With a light tap of her left foot, she arched her upper body forward, draping it over her outstretched left leg. Then she pivoted her entire frame, pushed off with her right foot, and flipped her small body through the air in a swift somersault, landing soundlessly back where she had started. She resumed the same pose—arms still clasped behind her back, right foot planted on the ground—with the foot landing in exactly the same spot as when she had launched herself, not a hair's breadth off.

　　"After ten repetitions, does your landing begin to stray?" Aunt Hui asked.

　　"Yes, Master. After the tenth time, the energy in my right leg cannot reach my toes, and that is why my landing becomes unsteady."

　　Luo Huangyi crouched down, took hold of the girl's right leg, and slowly ran her hand along it from top to bottom. "Though you have achieved the third layer with relative ease," she said, "your inner breath is not flowing freely throughout. It is all surface without substance. Do not rush for results. Focus more on the circulation paths of your inner breath—when the inside is complete, the outside will follow."

　　"Yes, Master. I understand."

　　Not far away, Chen Jiang, having completed his patrol, turned his gaze toward them. He looked briefly at the master and disciple, then at the Crown Prince in meditation, who sat as steady as a mountain, utterly unaware of the movement between Little Shan and her master.

　　As Chen Jiang withdrew his gaze, his usually impassive face suddenly shifted. At the same moment, Luo Huangyi gave a slight start. She closed her eyes and listened in silence for a few moments, then opened them again, her expression unreadable, and looked toward Chen Jiang, who was already watching her.

　　Their eyes met. Each read the meaning in the other's gaze. Chen Jiang's body remained still, but his eyes turned once more toward the meditating Crown Prince.

　　One of the guards nearby, sensing something, asked, "Commander Chen, have you detected something?"

　　Chen Jiang gave a slight nod. "In addition to those tracking us, there is another group."

　　The guard could sense the disturbance but could not make it out clearly. "How many of them?" he asked.

　　"Eight miles away—twenty in number."

　　"And how shall we respond?"

　　"The trackers are still there. We observe and wait."

　　The questioning guard said no more. With a relaxed air, he pulled a gourd of wine from his belt, uncorked it, and handed it to Chen Jiang. Chen Jiang said nothing more, either. He took it, tilted his head back, and downed a long draught of millet wine.

　　After that one swallow, Chen Jiang added, "Fan Qi, go tell the others to stay calm. These minor disturbances are not worth our attention."

　　"I understand, Commander," the guard said with a nod, taking the wine gourd back and turning away.

　　When the first king founded the Chen Kingdom, he had eight guards under his command—Chen, Su, Wei, Zhang, Tu, Fan, Zi, and Qi. They served him faithfully all their lives, earning great distinction. The king bestowed upon them the title of "Eight Ancestral Guards" and passed down a decree: from that time on, all royal guards were to be drawn from the households of these eight families.

　　Among this party, the eight black-turbaned guards were also from the Eight Ancestral Guard households. Their commander, Chen Jiang, was born Chen Xiantuo. Before joining the royal household, he had held the military rank of general, so everyone called him Chen Jiang—"General Chen."

　　These eight guards were the Crown Prince's personal protectors, wearing the black turbans unique to the prince's household. By the order of King Ying, they were tasked with escorting Crown Prince Li on his diplomatic mission to the Wei Kingdom.

　　After passing the word to his companions, Fan Qi continued to hold his wine gourd, leaning casually against a tree trunk, and began to sip the wine slowly.

　　The other guards followed suit, each unhooking the gourd from his belt.

　　The people of Chen were fond of drink, and cultivators were no exception. Millet wine was a specialty of Chen, famed throughout the land. Millet grew everywhere in the world, but the finest came from the Wei River Valley in Chen—and the millet wine brewed with water from the Wei was known the world over as Chen Millet Wine.

　　The wine was potent. Though the guards were all cultivators, they were not heavy drinkers. Each took a few swigs according to his own capacity, then set the gourds aside.

　　Among the eight guards, Fan Qi was a short, rotund old man, with graying hair loosely pinned by a black wooden hairpin and a ruddy face. He was the last to put down his gourd. After fastening it back to his belt, he stretched out a leg and nudged the man beside him—Zhang Quan. "Boy, tonight, sleep far away from this old man. Don't go grabbing my legs in your sleep and crying out for your wife again."

　　The others burst out laughing. Zhang Quan, unfazed, flipped his body over, changing from a seated posture to one with his head down and his feet in the air. He flicked a small stone from his toes into the air—the stone shot off with a sharp whistling sound.

　　By then, the sky had grown dark. A moment later, a hoarse, raspy cry rang out—"Wa-woo!" It was a bird lurking in the trees.

　　The creature had been struck by Zhang Quan's stone. Yelping in pain, it flapped its wings and fled. In its fury, it squeezed its rear and dropped a splatter of droppings, which fell heavily toward Fan Qi's grizzled head. Taken completely by surprise, Fan Qi swatted it with his palm—but the droppings were loose and soggy. The force of his palm scattered them in all directions, splattering several of the men nearby.

　　A large glob of bird droppings smeared across the old man's face, reeking and foul. He was about to rise when Zhang Quan—who had already anticipated the outcome when he flicked the stone—rolled away with a series of somersaults, putting a good distance between himself and the scene. The others, helpless, could only curse and swear.

　　Just then, Chen Jiang, who had been pacing slowly over, raised his hand. The guards fell silent at once. Zhang Quan darted back silently as well.

　　At that moment, in the dense forest eight miles away, a dark-clad figure slipped soundlessly from the branches. His right hand extended forward, and his pitch-black fingertips plunged noiselessly into the target's side.

　　The stricken man lurched forward—but before he could cry out, two arms shot out from beside his head, one fist and one palm, striking toward the dark-clad figure as he continued his forward charge. The dark-clad man withdrew his right hand in a flash. His fingertips tore through the injured man's skin and dragged out a spray of blood.

　　The fist and palm were aimed at his chest. The dark-clad figure dropped low and twisted sideways, letting both blows brush past him. Then, pushing off with his legs, he flipped upward into the air, passing between the two arms that had already overshot and could not yet be withdrawn.

　　Midway through his arc, a blade came whistling in—a horizontal slash aimed at his feet in midair. But the dark-clad figure seemed to have anticipated it. He bent his knees, tucked his legs back, and kicked out with force, meeting the blade squarely. The impact gave him fresh momentum, halting his downward drop. He curled his body, drew his knees to his chest, rolled through several midair somersaults, and hurtled onward.

　　But ahead, two more men stood apart, rushing forward to meet him. Each held a length of rope. With a slight flick, a fine mesh net stretched taut between them—barely visible in the dark of the woods.

　　The dark-clad figure could no longer adjust his course in time, and with his momentum already too great to check, he was about to be caught in the net—when suddenly both men holding the ropes let out a simultaneous grunt and toppled backward onto the ground. The dark-clad figure, now free, rolled through the air and vanished into the depths of the forest.

　　The two who had struck with fist and palm dared not pursue. They spun around sharply, but the woods behind them were utterly silent and empty.

　　The two exchanged a glance and lowered their arms. One of them transmitted silently: "It must be the Wei King's guards. I never thought the Wei King would be so prepared—he's had men watching the Crown Prince of Chen ever since we entered Qinchuan."

　　The other nodded. "The Wei King's guards truly live up to their reputation—experts in abundance. And we were tailed without even noticing. It seems this mission will end in failure."

　　"Indeed. The eight Chen guards alone would have been difficult enough to handle, and then there's Luo Huangyi. With the Wei guards already on alert as well, we'd better call off the operation."

　　"Call it off? Then how will we answer to the king?"

　　"Pressing on when the task is impossible will only bring more trouble. If our identities are exposed, it will only make matters worse."

　　The two quickly reached their decision. Without so much as a glance at the three fallen bodies on the ground, they gave a short series of bird-like calls through their lips to signal the remaining members of their group, then withdrew.

　　From the depths of the forest, the dark-clad figure watched them pull back and shook his head, signaling the other Wei guards not to pursue. First, he feared it might be a decoy to lure them away. Second, he had only three men with him. He had just risked a kill on one masked assailant, and that entire group had melted away without hesitation—no dragging, no loose ends.

　　It was clear that the enemy was highly trained and well-coordinated—no ordinary bandits. Had he not been skilled enough to avoid their net, he would have been struck by that fist and palm before he ever reached it.

　　His orders were to keep watch over the Crown Prince of Chen and his party, and to ensure their safety while within Wei territory—which made him all the more reluctant to give chase.

　　Two of his men went to examine the bodies on the ground, but the dark-clad figure showed no interest. The enemy had not even glanced back when they withdrew—a clear sign that they were not worried about their fallen comrades revealing their identity. His men knew this as well; they were only checking out of habit.

　　Silence soon reclaimed the woods. The sky had turned fully dark, and the chirping of insects gradually swelled. A gentle breeze passed over the three corpses on the ground—and they began to dissolve.